mcckies

[mcckies]

Despite all her faults, if there was one thing that Valentina could honestly say about herself, was that she saw people for who they were. Of course, she was silently and fairly verbally judgmental about appearances, but those were minor fixes and at least gave her things to do. It was one thing many people had in common, and regardless of how they thought of themselves, nobody was beyond help to her. It was somehow a generously shallow way of thinking. But clothes often reflected the way a person thought of themselves, and where once she wouldn't care, even make certain that someone she was jealous of (but would never admit it) would look worse than her. How petty, now that she was faced with far bigger challenges.

Now, she was just the kindest soul trying to help with the little things. Always focusing on the worst of the worst was how people get themselves killed - by their hand or another's.

Valentina scoffed and turned away a bit, arms crossed and teeth biting into the inside of her top lip - an old habit that often left a metallic taste in her mouth. "And do you think whatever your hunting can't smell that on you?" she said. "I can, and I'm only human. I have extras." None that she would be caught dead wearing herself, of course, but they were at least warm-ish. Lots of people crossed through the town over the years, many not making it out, with personal affects hers to take. She was somewhat of an archivist that way, detailing how trends changed, the best passage of time she could come up with while she was stuck here in limbo.

the light taps on their shoulder were somewhat startling; not a lot of people touched suki. maybe it was born out of some sixth sense that they were dangerous so it was best to stay away, like some prey animals might have to a bigger predator. whatever it was, people tended to steer clear. today it seemed their shield that kept them immune from being comforted or touched at all was down. the taps were quick, impersonal, so suki thought that whoever it was likely needed something from them. when they turned, they met valetina's eyes, catching sight of her from the corner of their eye. they thought it was strange to be the center of her attention at once, but maybe she really did need something.

angling their body towards her, their eyes widened with the intentions of the other. insulting suki's clothing wasn't something they normally cared about - most of the shit they owned wasn't even their own. it had been leftovers from the community given to them when they walked in here two years ago from the forest. but they were dependable, even if some were ill-fitting and clearly styled more to a man than a woman. suki didn't mind their gender-less expression, but they did mind that the clothes were just a little big on their frame. though some days, when over stimulation became a problem, they were thankful for the ability to seemingly disappear within their clothes. and regardless of the fact that none of these things belonged to suki once upon a time, they did now. and they were all she had. so it aggravated and grated on a sense of pride that often wasn't visible for suki; their own sense of worth and vanity.

valentina was looking to help - or so she said. suki really just thought that the vanity of someone like valentina's seemingly outshone everyone else, especially those she claimed to want to help with her fashion advice or her 'cleanings.' she had a desire to make the world 'beautiful,' a notion that suki found problematic because they were in a literal apocalyptic situation. for one, suki thought her attention would be better spent doing other things. for two, suki thought that valentina had a personal vendetta against all things that didn't fit into her image. but maybe, that was suki reading too much into things. the empathetic creature reared its head inside her chest and she didn't flinch away, begrudgingly accepting that valentina had survived ten years here and maybe there was a process of its own for her. maybe this was her process; signalling out suki in the middle of town to give her fashion advice, of all things.

suki, looking down at the stain on her heavier coat from where they'd roughly cleaned the blood out with cleaner yesterday, and their eyes darkened. there was a hundred cruel little things on the tip of their tongue then because they felt embarrassed, but all they did was look forward again, a blush steadily rising up their neck and around to their cheeks. "you can't take it right now," their voice rough under strain of not saying other things, they tucked a piece of hair behind their ear and began to walk. "i have a hunt soon; i'll need it."

[mcckies]

How much better this place would be if everyone listened to Valentina as readily as Charlie did? They had quite a long time to get used to each other around here, and while she would never admit it, Valentina always had a bit of a streak of favoritism towards people who have been here for long. Survivors, maybe in a different way than she was, but it helped build up the idea of a routine Valentina had in her head; her happy delusions.

She hummed a sigh, as if debating, while she waited for Charlie to remove herself from the diner's booth. The church wasn't terribly far, so it wouldn't be too difficult of a walk even through the snow. "I guess so," she decided on. The answer would always be yes, as she always preferred anyone that would be going into her space would be as clean as they could be in Arcadia. "I live at the church. My little studio's in there."

Valentina was ready to hold out her hand for the girl to take, a friendly arm-in-arm walk that she doubted Charlie would want anyway, from what she knew of her, but did a double take at seeing the mountain of bandages over her hand. "Do you want a glove?"

There was something weirdly comforting about being around Valentina, even if often times it felt like being confronted by her own lack of humanity. Valentina had been here a year more than Charlie, yet she prescribed faithfully to the person she had been before Arcadia, a difficult task when in a town that took you in sharp hands and molded you to change, to accommodate in order to survive. That's how Charlie had always justified the blood on her hands, once so soft and now so calloused, fingers raw from always pulling strings back and taking life.

The condescending tone wasn't missed by Charlie, but honestly she didn't have the energy to be very snippy back. Plus it wasn't like anything she said would change the way Valentina was with her. A frown appeared on her face as the suggestion that she wouldn't get the chance to have coffee or eat food right now, but the complaint died on her lips when she noticed another diner patron looking at the state of her jacket.

"Right, okay," she grumbled out, pushing herself out of the booth. "Hey I don't supposed there's the possibility of a hot shower, wherever you're taking me."

[mcckies]

Of course, this was all perfectly normal for Valentina, had been for awhile, and she had plenty of time to adjust. It meant that oftentimes, she'd forgotten that this 'normal' was anything but those who came in. It wasn't her job to get them oriented, though.

"Oh, obviously it's nice," she remarked. "I made it. I meant that it would be nice to have real fabric to work with - silks and things, high end, well woven, all of that." In her weekend bag that had been packed long ago were some nicer clothes, but that was ten years ago - she likely didn't fit into them anymore, and didn't want to take them out of their preservation, lest something happen. At the girl's question, an eyebrow raised, and she gave the briefest of pauses as she took out one of her sewing kits. "Not directly," she answered.

"Well, there's snow on the ground, you might get cold," Valentina said, extending a hand for the girl to hand over her pants. The desk was too full of fabrics and fixes for others that it was no longer of any use, and Valentina had preferred to just stay put on the floor while she did any of her alterations. She could spread them out on wood, looking at the big picture a little better. "Here in Arcadia, or here in--" She scoffed, suddenly knowing who she met. "Ugh, don't talk to him, he's so weird. He's in here all the time, he just sits in the pews all day." She glanced up at her. "I'm Valentina."

Like a child running into a white van, she got plucked off of the streets by this total stranger who promised her of yummy treats, and she just fully complied. What was the worst that could happen? But then she saw the worst that could happen. The church. Not the goddamn church - anything but the church - god no, god ... she couldn't -

Aaaand she was inside.

Her struggles stopped when she gazed upon a backroom that was so unlike the church she'd known her entire life. This was... everything she eyed looked colorful and sparkling and... did she dare say gay? ''Uhhhh... I think it looks nice,'' her remark was soft, now fascinated by all the clothing she'd never seen before. There hadn't been like a modern store in her first hometown, everything she'd come to know and see was mostly made from wool from the sheep they herded, re-used fabrics sown into clothing that would be the furthest away from being called fashion. It wasn't until in her second home, she'd come to know about those things. Through magazines. Through her fellow psych mates. Through the limited screentime on the old square box television they all shared in the living room.

Something something, dead girl, something. The nice gesture of the girl touching her face had Sera halt in her actions, making her focus on her instead of the things she was surrounded by. She was so pretty. Like cover girl pretty. ''Have you ever killed someone?'' Sera wondered out loud, reminded of the dead girl she mentioned. She had. Ripped look? Truth be told, she had no idea what this girl was on about. Growing up in a constipated town for half her life, and the other half in a mental institution where fashion didn't exist did that to a person.

''Uhh...'' she caught herself staring for a moment, having a girl down on her knees wasn't her first, yet it still made her swallow in nervosity. ''No, I don't really... I don't get cold easily.'' Without getting into details how or why that was, she focused on something else. Kicking off the shoes she was given, they weren't the right size anyway, and unbuttoning the pants she wore. After spending year after year surrounded by girls of her age, all the shame she once carried had left her system. In fact, there wasn't much shame left when she casually got her pants off and stood there partially in her underwear. ''There's this guy I met the other day here. His voice scratches a weird itch in my brain, have you seen him? It's still there when I close my eyes at night. The way he says things - like... 'not', it goes like naught or nutttt or noawht yeah! Like that almost - ugh it's so weird.''

[mcckies]

Sleep was difficult last night. Valentina never realized how fortunate she was that she had the hobbies she did. The first little while in Arcadia had her closed off in her room in the back - an old bed, a small desk, armoire. Probably more intact than other areas of the town, but over time it had grown to be a safe little hovel. All her various fabrics hanging all over her room, on the walls, created great insulation both for warmth and sound. Less hearing the outside at night, and more warmth when the temperature dropped like this.

The latter was a necessity for a girl born and raised on the Golden Coast.

A long time ago she had fashioned a sleep mask, and most of her spare time was spent trying to recreate any of her previous sense of normalcy over the last decade of her time here. Her side hustle, an extra way to keep herself busy, consisted of the wooden drop off box outside the door closest to her room, where the residents would drop off any clothes that needed fixing or specific cleaning. Valentina had stopped being squeamish about it all about 3 months after starting. She wasn't awake yet, but someone's insistent knocking roused her out of her sleep, and she threw her red sleep mask across the room in frustration. Bare feet moved across the cold floor of the church and when she flung open the door, she was greeted by an excitable dog and she took a step back - Valentina wasn't an animal person. "Can I help you?" she asked, her tone somewhat unfriendly, and still sleepy.

location. ⁺ - outside of the church.

it was jealousy—gnawing at margot’s mind like a ravenous, insidious disease. she inhaled the icy air, trying to steel herself against the crawling itch at the nape of her neck stirred by the latest arcadia news. her body betrayed her, shivering as the cold seeped into her skin, leaving her face kissed by a sting of numbness and the raw red flush of winter.

the news: someone reunited with their twin. every night in the cabin, margot sank to her knees, desperation clawing at her chest, as she silently begged for some miracle to bring levi back. her twin. it wouldn’t happen. he was gone. that effortless connection they’d once shared—the wordless exchanges, the silent glances that spoke volumes—was severed forever. she couldn’t deny the twisted knot of bitterness and envy that festered within her at the thought of another’s reunion. swallow it.

the snow crunched beneath her boots as she trudged forward. phantom, her ever-loyal dog, darted ahead, his thick fur bouncing with every leap, dusted with tiny white flakes. over her shoulder hung a line of dead rabbits she’d retrieved from her traps, their lifeless bodies swaying with her steps. they’d need to be gutted, skinned, and hung to dry. margot doubted the food supply in arcadia could afford any waste, especially in conditions as unforgiving as these.

as the town came into view, phantom suddenly picked up speed, his focus locked on something ahead. margot followed his path with her eyes and felt her stomach twist. the church. its stark, looming presence seemed to glow against the snow, a beacon of so-called holiness in a world drowning in monsters, death, and deprivation. her nose wrinkled instinctively. a supposed sanctuary, had become a cruel distraction for so many. little food, dwindling supplies—but at least they had Him. she scoffed at the thought, exhaling a puff of steam into the cold air, redirecting her focus back to phantom.

he was scratching furiously at the church door, just as countless others had in desperation on nights like this. “ hey - what is your deal?�� margot muttered, her voice cutting through the stillness. she absently toyed with the foot of one of the dead rabbits slung over her shoulder, rubbing it like a talisman, as though she could summon a scrap of luck to guard her so near the church. "keep scratching at that door - and you'll get possessed." or worse - the holy divine. " phantom" margot called to the dog again, " c'mon - im hungry." always her priority - but the dog didn't listen. he persisted, scratching at the church door knocking until an answer.

@mcckies . // closed starter

[mcckies]

“Oh, it’s your blood?” she spoke, the beginning of her words running over here, nasally in a condescending way. “Well then that makes it all better.”

Valentina knew she was in the right. She usually was, even if it took the other person some time to reach that conclusion. The philosophy that she had adopted here was that if they were to be stuck here for… a long time, honestly, an unprecedented amount of time for any one person to be anywhere, they might as well tried to be as normal as possible. And Valentina’s normal was looking presentable, regardless of the circumstances. She was right again about the biohazard situation, though - it probably didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but what a way to mark yourself as a wounded animal. They wouldn’t know - or care - whose blood it was so long as they could smell it.

“Great!” Don’t I know it. Valentina took a quick sweep around the diner, checking to see if there were any waiters or waitresses that were bringing over food, but Charlie had sat quick and Valentina had caught the bloody anomaly quicker, so that was a smaller likelihood. “Come on. Let’s knock this out and then you can sit here and wallow all day after.”

There was no shower in the bar. This wouldn't have been a problem except that Charlie had been living there ever since the radio station had been damaged. It was slowly starting to become more inhabitable, the radio station, but with one working hand and an MIA roommate there was a) only so much she could do and b) only so much speed she could do it with. The process of rebuilding her life post storm, well, Charlie wasn't quite sure what that looked like, she just knew that it involved a lot of bottling up feelings, trying not to jump at the slightest noise, and a complete penchant for drunkenly telling monsters to piss off at night. 'YOU THINK YOU CAN HURT ME, MOTHERFUCKERS I'LL FUCKING RIP YOUR THROATS OUT.'

No shower, but a lot of liquor, even if some of it was experimental (experimentally awful). It did make mornings rough, the only relief she found was at the bottom of a mug of coffee. There was still hesitation when she came to the diner, knowledge that she shared habits with someone that had tried to kill her. Charlie bent over outside and upheaved the content of her stomach onto the white snow just thinking about how Reyna had looked at her, teeth gleaming like a knife. I'm going to wake you up now.

Still there had been some positive outcomes to that shit show of a night, if she was forced to look at the positives. Without her pinky, Conor's corpse had been leaving her alone, so she had to justify the decision as a good one, since it'd seemed effective in getting rid of the rot. Another plus was that sketching was made easier without her pinky finger in the way, not that Charlie found inspiration often. The swelling in her eye had gone down, replaced by deep purple and blue hues. And for all of her lack of cleanliness, the salve given to her by Suki had done magical work in preventing infections to the open wound on her hand.

Once she'd confirmed Reyna was nowhere inside, Charlie walked in and beelined it for the coffee pot. She was well aware she had the look of a slasher final girl, lacking a few days of showers and unbothered by the blood on her jacket or on any of her clothes. There was only one jacket available to her, and the temperatures outside meant she didn't have much opportunity to remove and wash it.

Charlie was in the process of readjusting her attitude when she felt a tap on her shoulder. The motion startled her but she tensed instead of flinching. Great, just what she needed first thing in the morning, a lesson on laundering. "Valentina," she greeted, more clipped than intended. "You know, I appreciate it, but I'm pretty sure it's my blood so it doesn't really bother me." In saying that she noticed a particularly dark spot on the collar of her jacket. She wetted her thumb and then tried to rub at it. Finger to mouth to collar and back to mouth again, Charlie repeated the process over and over again. A metallic taste saturated her tongue and Charlie briefly wondered if this blood could be anyone else's. That thought was quickly overtaken by the fact that her ministration was making the stain worse. Begrudgingly she looked at Valentina. "Alright, I admit this jacket could use some help."

[mcckies]

It was probably way too early for this, but Valentina was doing one of her favorite things possibly ever - people watching.

It wasn't as entertaining as it probably could have been in any other places - like, literally anywhere else, specifically anywhere not in this limbo - since the same people she saw were really the only people worth actually watching. Countless of hopeless victims of Arcadia rolled through this place and barely lasted a week. Valentina lasted ten years - there was nothing quite strong enough in this world like the power of spite and an overinflated sense of self.

So there had to be some kind of survival instinct in her, but she chose to view it in an opposite manner - these people here were on the same wavelength as her, and that was commendable. Ten years was a long time to survive here, and god knew there were some close calls there. Occasional meltdowns over trivial things that had her shrieking like a banshee and ripping her work from where they hung on the clothesline, but it took a good night sleep and a solid hangover to make her right(ish) as rain the next day.

As for the entertainment, Valentina sipped at her tea - or whatever it was that passed as tea nowadays - at a booth closest to the door, watching those in the town begin their day. She was up and ready to go the second those Things retreated back into the forests where they belonged, not wanting to waste a minute. Her beloved patchwork jacket was on, her favorite guardian against the snow, kept on anyway due to the winter breeze that crept on in anytime someone opened a door.

Someone came in and something about them had Valentina eyeing them, her head tilting to study as they took a seat facing away from her, at the far end of the diner. God, their coat - it was a mess. Absolutely not; the days past had been crazy, sure, but this was ridiculous. Valentina sat down at the booth behind them and gave them two noticeable taps with her index finger on their shoulder. "You know, I'm one of the only people left that knows how to get bloodstains out of clothes," she remarked, nodding at their clothing. "Like, fully out, not that half-in, half-out shit that cleaning lady used to do before she got mauled. Walking around like a giant biohazard is rancid, even for this place. I can help you. I won't even ask that many questions."

[mcckies]

"Hmm... we're about the same size, I think."

Thank god this girl rolled into this place, whoever she was. It took a lot of convincing, some of her most difficult work yet - or at least in a while, since she'd been here - but Valentina managed to coax her into the back entrance of the church, the closest way in to the actual fun part of the building - her makeshift studio.

An old sewing machine that only worked when the moon was full, but as many needles and threads as she could scavenge over the years. She got so lucky a few years ago when that lady got stuck here going to some sort of sewing retreat - or was she a salesperson? - and Valentina gathered all of those old supplies for herself. Of course, the lady died eventually, and that was a bummer, but real needles and threads were godsends.

"Obviously I don't have anything super nice like I wish I did," Valentina explained as she led the girl into her space, pushing aside laundry lines with various fabrics pinned around. "But I can let you borrow some stuff. Some, and I'm strict about it - all it took was one kind gesture and a dead girl and now my favorite pieces are reserved for me." Valentina faced her then, flicked the girl's hair out from her face, and looked over her whole outfit, then. "No, this isn't going to work." Valentina squatted down by the girl's feet then, taking note of the rip in the other's jeans, by the knee. "I have to fix this first. The ripped look has to be out by now, has to be." She shook her head. "I just know you have to be freezing. I guess I can spare an extra jacket." *// @fallacias

[mcckies]

ANYA TAYLOR-JOY for Elle Australia Magazine (September 2024)

[mcckies]

&& valentina

⸻ anya taylor-joy, 27, cisfemale, she/her; ] … the photo on the missing poster is of VALENTINA MACKIE. they are TWENTY-SEVEN, and have been missing for TEN YEARS. when the sun rises, they work as SEAMSTRESS. rumors in town say they can be NARCISSISTIC and FREE-SPIRITED. they chose to live in THE CHURCH, and have an uncanny resemblance to REGINA GEORGE (Mean Girls), BARBIE (Barbie), PENNY LANE (Almost Famous), SATINE (Moulin Rouge!), KATHRYN MERTEUIL (Cruel Intentions), RANSOM DRYSDALE (Knives Out), ALEXIS ROSE (Schitt's Creek).

BIO - STATS - MIRROR - PINTEREST

*// A E S T H E T I C S

glitter stained fingertips, rainbows at golden hour, heart-shaped lollipops, scuffed white cowboy boots clicking against tile floors, red kisses on mirrors, flickering neon signs at four o'clock in the morning, the grainy static at the end of a record, soft pink lighting from a crystal chandelier, the bright orbs leftover in your eyes from flashing cameras, carefully placed jewels along eyeshadow, ice cream melted down your wrist, walking around on tip-toes because the floor is too cold, lip gloss residue on the rim of a champagne bottle.

*// I N Q U I R I E S

How did your muse spend their first night in Arcadia, and where?

Picture this:  a frightened girl running through the town in a sequined red prom dress muddied from the bottom and bleeding from a gash in her chest, and from somewhere beyond her hairline. The sash and crown naming her Prom Queen were dirty and dotted with bloodstains. There’s been a car crash, she said. After the tree, just at the edge of the woods. Nevermind that here the sun was just setting when before, it had already been nightfall. It took an older woman, around her mom’s age, to calm her down and bring her something to eat and drink at the diner.

At that point, though, the doors were locked and there was nothing that could be done to save him. He was injured, and at the mercy of Them. Valentina screeched and cried, demanding they help him when she looked out the window and saw him - his corpse, rather, missing a leg and being dragged through the streets. The thing holding onto him locked eyes with her through the window, smiled, and Valentina had mercifully fainted from shock.

Why did your muse choose to live where they do?

When she first got here, she foolishly believed that They were abominations of some unholy order, and believed the church would give refuge. Sure, she sinned a bit, and hadn’t been to church in a long time… but she had to be safe if she found safety in a holy place, right? The longer time went on, she found that wasn’t the case, and ended up still returning to her self centered anyway.

If there really was a god, what the hell was he doing trapping her in a place like this?

An unused rectory became something of a refuge for her, hidden by various fabrics and cloths she had found over her decade-long tenure in Arcadia, a home-office of sorts for those that needed a quick stitch.

What was your muse doing when they came across the tree?

Drinking and driving - well, she wasn’t driving. But her boyfriend was, and they had just left a successful prom to go to a secluded vacation home, farther from LA, up in Paradise Springs where a few of them and their friends decided to go for a prom weekend. They left earlier, wanting a head start, and were trading a bottle of champagne back and forth in the BMW. She never noticed the tree, but the when the woods became thicker, and the roads more winding, that she realized there was a problem into the car went careening off the road, injuring the both of them in the crash.

Has your muse left anything behind that they are desperately trying to return to or escape?

Yeah, everything. Valentina was ready to head for the Fashion Institute of Technology, to make a name for herself in her own right. Everyone she knew from LA was doing something in movies, all wannabe nepo-actors, but she held herself to a far higher standards than the rest of those people. Although it was a great place to grow up in, she didn’t want to be stuck in her childhood hometown forever; what a waste.

Now that she’s gone though, she misses everything about it - the beaches, the shopping malls, the bright sun through the palm trees. And she misses the life that she could have had, the one she knows she actually deserves.

*// T H R E A D T R A C K E R

(owed in bold)

Charlie / Valentina

Margot / Valentina

Sera / Valentina

[mcckies]

Clueless (1995) dir. Amy Heckerling

[mcckies]

[mcckies]

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